Take It To The Blade
by ohfather-pleasefather
Summary: "It's hard to explain to my counselor how it makes me feel. How cutting can release all my problems and all the bad things that happened during the day. It's my way of expressing my feelings." AU.


_**Title: **_Take It To The Blade**_  
>Rating: <em>**M – for mentions of self-harm_**  
>Description: <strong>_It's hard to explain to my counselor how it makes me feel. How cutting can release all my problems and all the bad things that happened during the day. It's my way of expressing my feelings.**_  
>Characters: <em>**Quinn F.  
><em><strong>Disclaimer:<strong>_ I own my home. I own my clothes. I own my car. But I do not own Glee.**_  
>Notes: <em>**_So, this was originally written for a drama exam. I had to perform a 2 minute monologue, and this bad boy ended up being 30 minutes. Quite proud of it if I do say so myself. I hope you all enjoy! Reviews are welcome! This is also a bit AU, so don't mind that. I wanted to add in some extra parts just to make it more interesting. The italics is basically the inner monster that develops slowly when you hold in something that you know you shouldn't. This isn't based off real life. Don't worry, I'm not some sadistic freak who gets pleasure in making characters suffer (total lie, I live off the angst). Anyways, my first story so I hope it works out well and you all like it. Share with your friends!_

_PS. - Oneshot, don't ask for a multi-chapter. If you guys like it, I'll write a follow up._

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><p><strong>Take It To The Blade<strong>

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><p>"My mother always told me that I was worthless, when I brought home a bad report card or a bad mark. As well, she also told me that if I tried my best, it was good enough for her. At least that was until Fanny was awarded a youth peace prize for raising a large sum of money to give fresh water and food to the poor, helpless people in Haiti when the earthquake hit the country. Now whenever I look at my face in bathroom the mirror, it's a constant reminder of how my sister is succeeding and meeting my mothers demands and requests while I sit and watch from the side lines. I know I'm a failure to her. I can tell in her voice whenever she praises Fanny and then when she tells me that I could do much better than what I've already done. I know there's ways that I can control how much I would get on my assignments at school. I could try harder than I was already, go beyond the expectations that the teachers wanted me to, but I could never force myself or push myself hard enough to attempt it, let alone think about attempting it."<p>

_The couch is lumpy._ It was cold, hard. He wanted me to lay on it. _Fuck that._

"There's some things, though, that I have no control over. Like the first night that I gave into the temptation. The nagging sensation every time I walked into the kitchen to just open the drawer and pull out a paring knife, the tugging feeling of me going to the bathroom and locking the door so no one could just barge in and demand to know what I was doing. The wanting in my chest that ached to feel the cold blade against my pale skin, praying that the thin, scarlet line would add some feeling to my life, just a little bit of colour. I'm tired of seeing all blue all the time. I had a sudden desire to actually feel that I just couldn't resist anymore. The creature pulled me in too tight and told me to explore the new level of sensuality. And I agreed. I actually agreed. What a stupid, stupid mistake. Look at me now, confused and messed up with the scars on my arms to prove it. There's nothing here stopping me from cutting open my flesh and watch my blood seep out, reminding me of the pain that I once felt and taking it all away."

It's hard to explain to my counselor how it makes me feel. But I wasn't holding back. _You have no reason to hold back. Let it out._

"Cutting can release all my problems and all the bad things that happened during the day. It's my way of expressing my feelings. Cutting was the only thing that reminded me that I was alive and that I could actually feel feelings like everyone else. I need the pain. Seeing Fanny staring back at me through the mirror isn't enough. I feel the pain on the inside, but I still see dullness on the outside."

Dropping mood, nothing new with that. _It was already sinking 6 feet under, waiting for your mind, body and soul to join it._

"'You'll never be like Fanny, Quinn. Never.'"

Her words still echo in my mind._ Right along with me._

"'Quinn, quit fooling around. Fanny wouldn't do that.' My mother is just that type of a women. She has high expectations and she doesn't give a damn if I can't meet them. I honestly can't remember the last time that I actually seen her smile my way. Or dad's way, matter of fact. It's all about Fanny these days. She doesn't really treat me like her daughter anymore. It's like I'm a stranger in my own home. Her looks are ice cold and the feel of her hands on my shoulders when she's pushing me to just move along are clammy and awful. It isn't a lie when I said she was cold-blooded to my counselor. She is always pushing me harder in school. She tells me that I'll never leave this crummy town if I don't do my absolute best and I'll end up being just like her. That's the thing that scares me the most. Being like her is like living in a daily hell. Favouring a daughter and punishing the other for not being perfect. How she even has a soul amazes me. She punished me for breaking under pressure. My mom knew perfectly well that I couldn't take it anymore when she kept piling the duties on my shoulders. Fanny never had that. She expected me to be the golden child, but I am ever so slowly coming undone."

My 'hold-it-together' smile is still faltering when no one is looking. _Suck in a deep breath of air, Q. Get back on track._

"My father was the only one who cared when I passed out a month ago. I had lost control of this new razor I got and cut too deep on a major vein in my arm, one that could have sent me to the pearly gates. Or maybe even sent me to the fiery pits of Hades, which ever I deserved the most. I'm guessing that when people like me get a new toy, they get over excited when using it. If I ever heard that a few months back, I'd say it's a lie and that I was in control of how hard I pressed the sharp edge down on my arm. But as I laid there on the floor in a tiny pool of my own red blood, I realized that I wasn't in control. Not anymore. I passed that point long ago. That's when my father came rushing in, just as the blackness was about to swallow me whole. He was the one who tried to stop the bleeding, the one who took me to get fixed, the one who taught me that some people in this world aren't completely bad. He paid for my medical bills. How he could even marry a monster like my mother, I wouldn't even know."

_Monster. You're the only monster here, talking bad about your mother like that. Bitch. _Guilt took over me.

"Dad and mom are still married. They live in the same house and breathe the same air. They sleep in the same bed and eat at the same table, sit next to each other for Sunday night HBO. But they never speak. At least they never speak civilized. Always shouting. Mom is focused on Fanny and dad is always slipping out of the houses at strange hours of the day and night. We all pretend not to notice..."

I stopped there. _Don't go any further. You don't want the family reputation ruined. _It already was.

"Whatever,"

I say, _and I think._

"It's not like it's my fault that they're fighting constantly or that dad isn't content with the life he chose, even though I hear 'Quinn this' and 'Quinn that' in a lot of their conversations. Wait, fights. I mean fights. I'm always in the middle of their fights. Fannys in the middle of conversations. Sometimes, not even. She escapes every little thing. She locks herself in her room and blasts her music half the time and the other half she's out with friends or doing what Fanny does best: volunteering. I bet she already got my friends into her cold death grip. She did it once before, there's always that off chance she'll do it again."

And this time I'm not around to watch it happen. _So it'll be easier at school for her. _

"But this is where it left me. A scared little girl sitting in her therapist's room, pondering what it would be like if she lead a half-normal life. A teenage girl alone in this world. Since being in the crazy house, I haven't had a single visit. Not from my friends, not from my family. I don't think that I can do this anymore. My life is spiraling downwards and if I don't pull up my socks soon, I'll crash and burn into the pavement. I just... I'm done trying. I can't do it anymore. I'm tired of acting like a penny on the sidewalk, awaiting patiently for someone to actually stop and pick me up instead of walking all over me."

_Great metaphor. You sound like a desperate whore. _My bottom lip hurt from attempting to stop the tears.

"So this is it. The moment in my life where I sit and think, "Is this what I really want to do?" Then this is where I'll say to myself, 'Yes Quinn, this is it. This is your moment, your time to shine. This is your time to steal back any pride and dignity that she has ever taken from you. This is your moment to thank your father who has always helped you out. Most of all, the important one, this is your moment to apologize for the mistakes in your life and forgive those who did you wrong.' And that's what I'll do. I'll make it all better. I'll be forgiven at last."

Inspirational. _Retarded._

"So this..."

Up goes my sleeve. _Wait, what are you doing?_

"This is to the mother that wasn't there.."

Medium red scar up the right arm, deep enough to feel the hurt. _No, stop._

"The father I always wanted..."

Smaller scar next to the other one on the right. Farther from the bone. _No, I said stop!_

"And the sister that never cared."

Left sleeve goes up to the elbow. Long, deep, dark red scar. The empty expression of my therapist in front of me. His eyes fell upon my scars. So many meanings behind it. So many dark memories. So many held in feelings. So many words, expressions, actions. It's all seeping through like the blood had when I opened my skin up. And oddly enough, I feel myself being lifted.

_Quinn... why..._

First with my toes being brought off the floor, a small smile played at the edge of my lips.

_No please.. don't._

It moved up my legs, I was able to cross them.

_Don't...do...this...Quinn..._

I could lean back. I could smile ever so slightly. The weight was off my shoulders, floating above me into nothing.

_I'm..._

All of it. Gone.

_Gone._

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><p><em><strong>Notes: <strong>Again, so if you have any suggestions, please, I'm open and I'm all ears!_


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